James Barton: Incest neighbors

Across the street from the Towne residence Lisa Peters struggled in the front seat of the car. "Please Bob!" she protested. She almost died as the man's hand moved from her tit to her thigh and he attempted to lift the hem of her, short skirt. "You know how I feel."

The man shook his head in exasperation and he released the struggling woman, "I don't know what the hells wrong with you, Lisa. Jesus! He's been dead for over a year now. What're you saving if for?"

Lisa felt the tears burn her eyes at the mention of her husband. The man's cruel words cut into her consciousness to magnify the loneliness she held in her heart, and she realized suddenly that he was just like all the rest; a cheap meal, a few drinks and he expected a quick lay!

"You bastard!" she said and pushed open the door of his car.

"Aw, come on, baby. You're acting like a goddamn virgin!"

Lisa froze with one foot on the ground, turned in the seat and clenched her fists as she swore back, "And you're acting like a dog in heat!"

With that, she climbed quickly from the car, slammed the door loudly and rushed up the walk to the front door of her comfortable home. She heard the screech of tires as the man backed out of the driveway, then burned rubber as he sped away in anger.

Opening the front door with shaking hands, Lisa went inside, relocked the door, then stood in the darkness of the hallway, sobbing deeply. Bob was right — she was saving herself and she knew it. But not for some slob whose mind was on nothing but sex! She shook her head and the dark halo of her short hair brushed her cheeks and she realized they were wet with her tears.

Lisa bit her lip as she fought for control of her emotions, then looked upward where a dim light burned on the landing. She knew her son Craig would be asleep at this hour, and the last thing she needed was to see that handsome young face of his — he was the image of his dead father, and as he grew older, Lisa knew that even his mannerisms were those of Craig senior.

Tossing her sweater aside, she set her purse on the hall table, removed her pumps and climbed the stairs wearily. She was exhausted, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. There had been a fire in her body all evening and she knew it was not likely to extinguish itself. It had smoldered as Bob had taken her onto the dance floor and pressed his strong body to hers, and as they danced, she had felt the undeniable bulge of his swollen prick through his trousers — and it seemed he had rubbed her thigh with it deliberately as the music moved them slowly across the dim dance floor.

God, what am I thinking of? Lisa questioned herself as she paused at Craig's room and opened the door slightly. Her son was asleep with the night light burning and Lisa smiled as she stepped in, crossed the room and reached for the switch of the lamp. She hesitated as she looked down at her sixteen-year old son. He was the picture of his father down to the smallest detail — the deep cleft in his shin, the soft blond wisp of hair that fell to his forehead, his sensuous and full mouth… and Lisa caught her eyes roaming to the light sheet her son had thrown over him.

She swallowed thickly as she saw the sheet raised slightly below the boy's waist. She looked apprehensively at his face and knew that he was a deep sleeper — just like his father had been — and she recalled the many times through the years she had rolled over to take hold of her husband's cock as he slept. It had always seemed in a state of semi-erection.

Carefully, Lisa lifted the edge of the sheet and a small gasp escaped her lips as she realized her son was sleeping in the nude. Then she lifted the sheet farther and a light thrill went through her as she viewed his strong young prick lying against his thigh, the thatch of blond pubic hair so like his father's it made her shudder.

Dropping the sheet, Lisa switched off the light and walked quickly to the bathroom that separated the boy's room from the guestroom beyond. She closed the door quietly, then switched on the light and gazed longingly at the deep tub. She needed to relax and the thought of a shower in her own half-bath was not the least appealing. But she could bathe here, she told herself, so long as she did it quietly so not to awaken her sleeping son in the next room. Bending over the tub, she adjusted the water to a low flow, tasted its warmth, then went through the guestroom and across the hall to her own. As she removed her clothing, she found the crotch of her panties was soaking wet and she cursed herself silently as she dropped them in the hamper. Taking a light gown from the hook on the door, she padded barefoot and naked into the dimly lit hallway, paused and went quickly downstairs. In the kitchen she splashed a heavy measure of bourbon into a glass, dropped in a pair of ice cubes and returned to the large bathroom upstairs.

The tub was steaming as she closed the door quietly, dropped her gown on the counter and twisted the handles off. Easily, she let her aching body slide down into the tub, and the immediate warmth of the water soothed her ragged nerves.

She lay back, luxuriating in the warmth, the glass of whiskey held loosely in her right hand.

Again, the picture of her young — just thirty-four. She was healthy, had a good figure and she was attractive. She looked at the flesh of her thighs and realized she had put on a pound or two there, but nothing to get worried about.

Then her gaze went to the thick bush of pussy hair above her cunt and she realized that that was where her worries originated!

Lisa finished her drink, then set the glass on the floor as she felt the liquor course through her veins. She found the light uncomfortable then and, knowing what she was going to do, she stood up, reached for the switch beside the door and turned off the light. Only the dim glow of the small night-light illuminated the bathroom, and it cast deep shadows around the tub as Lisa lowered her aching body again into the hot water. She sighed deeply and let her thoughts roam for a moment as she picked the soap from its dish and lathered her hands… but she kept going back to the sight of her son lying naked in his bed, and the thought of his virile young prick assailed her as she ran her hands over her tits, then down to soap her crotch.

Her fingers felt good and she spread her legs slightly as her soapy fingers found their way almost of their own accord to the soft folds of flesh between her thighs. She slid down in the tub and let her head rest against the edge as her fingers began a slow, circular motion around her petal like cunt-lips. As she spread them gently with the tips of her fingers, she drew up her knees and let one finger part the slippery flesh and enter her cunt. Her clit was erect as it had been ever since Bob had pressed his throbbing prick against her thighs earlier and now she had that stiff prick shoved deep inside her horny snatch!

Lisa moaned as she began masturbating and her fingers slipped deeper and deeper inside her cunt. And the moans became more audible as her passion rose to fill her body to overflowing while her finger-fucked herself in the dimly lit bathroom.

Craig heard the water running in the bathroom, but he paid it no mind at first.

He knew it must be his mother and as sleepy as he was, he didn't give it a second thought. Then, from his half-sleep, he heard her go downstairs, then return after only a few minutes. He lay there fighting for sleep to return and his eyelids flickered as he saw the light go out in the bathroom.

This caught his attention and suddenly, Craig found himself wide awake, wondering why his mother would want to take a bath with the lights out. Was she all right — could she be drunk? He had never seen her that way, but several times in the past few months, he had com home from school to find her just a little bit tipsy, and it was those times, her realized, too, that she had been crying.